If and when someone ever decides to rank such things, Twitter will go down as possibly the greatest invention ever in terms of enhancing our consumption of sports. (Though, I suppose
SportsCrack Channel NFL RedZone might always challenge for the #1 spot.)
It allows fans from different cities a means to talk trash with one another with relative ease, while also creating a virtual bridge for the transplanted fan to reunite with his true people. It can be the place you just kill time at work or your primary source for gathering the day’s news.
Simply put, Twitter is awesome.
Twitter is also the worst place in the world, though, and it makes me want to stab each and every one of you in the eye with a plastic spoon. No, seriously, the addictive immediacy of Twitter has made some of you the most annoying, insufferable people on the face of the Earth. Repeat after me:
I. Don’t. Always. Have. To. Have. An. Opinion.
I mean that. I really do. The ability to immediately offer your take on anything and everything does not necessarily mean that you should offer your take on anything and everything. You don’t want to be that guy–nobody wants to be that guy–so, please, just stop being that guy.
Don’t know if you’re that guy? Here’s a handy guide:
People are over here having fun. You should have fun with them. Why don’t you like fun? If you begin to realize that you’re someone who doesn’t like fun, then you’re that guy.
Like the previous that guy, only worse, this that guy feels the need to present you with unnecessary evidence to prove his unnecessary point.
You know what? Hyperbole is perfectly fine. Everything that happens right now is the best thing ever; that’s just how people express excitement. It doesn’t mean that the grilled cheese sandwich I’m eating right now is the best piece of food I’ve ever tasted. It’s just a harmless way for me to get the message across that this grilled cheese sandwich tastes exactly like sex. Now, if you feel the need to swoop in and remind everyone that there are steaks out there that taste better than my grilled cheese sandwich, then you’re that guy.
Oh, hell yeah. You beat that straw man up. Punch him in the face. Curb stomp that straw man till his fragile, straw jaw breaks and his little straw teeth come flying out of his stupid straw mouth. Once your done with that, maybe take a second to look at the carnage and realize that you’re that guy.
I mean, you’re quite literally that guy.
C’mon, man, lighten up. This sports stuff is supposed to be fun. You don’t always have to open your mouth and let the world know you’re a downer. Stop making everyone hate you. Stop being that guy.
And if you are going to be that guy, please, just go be that guy on Facebook.